This was quite enough for loyal Bruce. Without so much as a growl
of warning, he jumped at the offender.

Dog and man tumbled earthward together. Then after an instant of
flurry and noise, Bruce felt Mahan's fingers on his shoulder and
heard the stark appeal of Mahan's whispered voice. Instantly the
dog was a professional soldier once more--alertly obedient and
resourceful.

"Catch hold my left arm, Lieutenant!" Mahan was exhorting. "Close
up, there, boys--every man's hand grabbing tight to the shoulder
of the man on his left! Pass the word. And you, Missouri, hang
onto the Lieutenant! Quick, there! And tread soft and tread fast,
and don't let go, whatever happens! Not a sound out of any one!
I'm leading the way. And Bruce is going to lead me."

There was a scurrying scramble as the men groped for one another.
Mahan tightened his hold on Bruce's mane.

"Bruce!" he said, very low, but with a strength of appeal that
was not lost on the listening dog. "Bruce! Camp! Back to CAMP!
And keep QUIET! Back to camp, boy! CAMP!"

He had no need to repeat his command so often and so strenuously.
Bruce was a trained courier. The one word "Camp!" was quite
enough to tell him what he was to do.

Turning, he faced the American lines and tried to break into a
gallop. His scent and his knowledge of direction were all the
guides he needed. A dog always relies on his nose first and his